


Patronizing

by Slythgeek



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Dildos, F/F, Face-Sitting, Lesbian Sex, Public Nudity, Snark, crinolines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:11:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8857444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slythgeek/pseuds/Slythgeek
Summary: What better way for the Doctor to celebrate her birthday than in her birthday suit?This is my fourth story in the Doctor Who Lesbiverse.  It's a little kinky but also a bit sweet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In the Lesbiverse AU, several Doctor Who characters are female. They have not changed gender at any point. That is just how they've always been.

The first strain of morning music blasted the Doctor awake. She kicked her legs fruitlessly to catch the other conference table chair as it rolled away from her and, in losing it, slumped off the chair that was holding the rest of her body. It took looking down at her hastily-buttoned shirt – which was, incidentally, not hers but the Master’s – to remember why she’d been sleeping at all.

“... Birthday baby. Oh, I love you so,” cooed the music, cranked far louder than “Sixteen Candles” ought ever to be played.

The volume dropped suddenly as the Doctor heard the door hiss open. The Master stood in the open doorway, posed with her head down and a hand up against the frame. She threw back her head dramatically and sang along. With the precision of a teenager singing into a hairbrush, the Master crept along the wall into the room. She emphasized notes with swishes that turned her black cocktail dress into crinkling accompaniment.

Suddenly feeling underdressed, the Doctor struggled to adjust her buttons, but the Master came upon her suddenly, swooping down like a hawk on a kill. She pressed a hand firmly to the center of the Doctor’s chest.

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” the Master said, eyes twinkling inches from the Doctor’s. “So it’s fitting you –” The Master pried the Doctor’s hands away from her shirt and undid a button. “Wear your birthday suit.”

She pulled her face away from the Doctor’s just far enough for the Doctor to see her toothy smile at her own joke. The Master flicked the last button open and parted the shirt. Underneath, the Doctor was indeed naked. The chiffon of the Master’s dress caressed her gently between the legs, and the Doctor sank down slightly further into the chair.

“I haven’t even touched you, you know,” the Master whispered.

“I know,” the Doctor said, lip trembling too hard for her defiance to come through.

The Doctor tried to straighten up, but the Master suddenly clamped a hand between the Doctor’s thighs. Her fingers dug hard into the Doctor’s sensitive skin, but her palm slipped gently against the Doctor’s clit. The Doctor pushed against her, glad for at least the slight tenderness. The Master lowered her head to the Doctor’s exposed breast and skimmed her teeth over one of the Doctor’s nipples. As soon as the Doctor let a moan pass her lips, the Master stepped back.

“Mmm, that’s enough for now,” the Master said. She pulled a pair of short satin gloves from the bodice of her dress. “I just wanted to put a little color in your cheeks, Doctor. Wouldn’t do to have you looking so pale and unhealthy.”

“Maybe if you let me get a bit more sleep.”

A handful of satin glove snapped across the Doctor’s face. It didn’t hurt so much as surprise her.

“Oh, don’t look at me with the big, brown eyes. You were insolent on purpose,” the Master said, putting on the gloves. They looked vintage – despite fading around the knuckles, the fabric had stayed smooth and reflected the light pouring in from the round windows.

“Not a good way to start out your birthday, is it?” the Master continued.

Time Lords didn’t exactly celebrate birthdays. Many a companion had berated the Doctor for forgetting theirs. It just wasn’t a custom on Gallifrey. Years were counted differently in a binary star system, and she’d honestly just decided on an Earth age she thought sounded right for her companions’ benefit.

“Awwww, Doctor,” the Master said, responding to the Doctor’s perturbed expression. “Don’t tell me you forgot your birthday.”

“You know I don’t have a –”

The Master gripped the side of the chair and leaned it back so far that the Doctor thought she was about to tip over. The Doctor scrabbled a moment, trying to find the elusive floor with her feet, and the Master leaned the chair back a little more. She grinned widely and touched her nose to the Doctor’s.

“What do humans get for their birthdays?” the Master said.

“Gifts,” the Doctor said flatly.

“And?”

“Uhhh...” At the Doctor’s hesitation, the Master let go of the chair with one hand, and the Doctor felt a slight drop before the Master caught it again.

“And...?”

“Presents? Cake? Spankings?”

“Oh, you’re an idiot!” the Master cried, finally dropping the chair to the floor. The Doctor barely avoided hitting her head on the wood floor, but the rest of her body wasn’t so lucky. Her bare elbows hit the floor with a pair of decisive thuds, and she tumbled off the back of the chair into a sprawled mess on the floor.

“Parties, Doctor!” the Master said. She kneeled down beside the Doctor but made no effort to help her up. “You need a party.”

The Doctor, still lying on the floor, lifted herself up onto her elbows and raised an eyebrow. “Like I need a hole in my head.”

The Master idled a finger down the Doctor’s chest, gave a carnal sigh, and said, “That could be arranged... but later, later. Party first. Or your present. Your pick.”

“Between a party and a present?”

“Oh, no, you get both. But which first. Do you want your present first or your present at the party?”

Based on the Master’s enthusiasm, the Doctor knew both were likely to be painful in some way. A party, though... the Doctor wondered who would attend. A tea party with Toclafane, maybe. Whatever the Master’s plan, the Doctor knew the gift had to be something best received in private – if the Master even let her choose in the end.

“Ehhh, the gift first, I think,” the Doctor said.

“Ooh, good choice,” the Master cooed. She stood without offering a hand to the Doctor.

The Doctor scrambled to her knees and took her position at the Master’s feet. She had learned this much in a year with this Master – following protocol led to far less pain... and she had also learned, though she hadn’t voiced the words even in her own mind, that she savored the look of admiration the Master gave her when she followed orders the first time.

“We’re going to have to take a little trip down the hall,” the Master said. She rustled around under her crinolines and produced a short chain. The collar was warm against the Doctor’s flesh as the Master secured it around her waiting neck.

“Right, up you get,” the Master said.

“What? I’m going to walk down there naked?” the Doctor said, wide-eyed.

“Oh, don’t get self-conscious on me now. You’re naked in here enough of the time as it is.”

“That’s different.”

“I don’t see it as any different.”

Of course, the Doctor thought, it was vastly different. Only a few guards and housekeepers had been allowed onto the bridge, and the Doctor had never left without her suit. She rose to her feet shakily, a strange feeling of excitement growing inside her. She had begun to accept and even embrace these feelings, but each one was new and awoke a terror within her that she really had lost to her greatest enemy.

Once the Doctor was standing, the Master wrapped the short end of the chain around her gloved hand and stood on her toes to give the Doctor the shortest, kindest kiss on the nose.

She grinned. “Good girl. Now follow me.”

“You mean I get to walk?” the Doctor asked bitterly.

“Would you rather I dragged you?”

The Doctor answered with a sigh and a muttered, “Fine.”

 

The Master had clearly lured as many people as possible into the corridor. Technicians, human guards, and dozens of Toclafane crossed the Master’s path as she mincingly led the Doctor to her private suite. A warm blush rose on the Doctor’s cheeks, but she also felt warmth spreading up through her torso. Her breathing became shallow as the people they passed glanced over her naked body. She found herself wanting them to look longer, to notice what a fine pet her Master had made of her. The sight of Francine standing, head bowed, before the door to the Master’s quarters immediately shamed the Doctor. When she was isolated on the bridge, the Doctor could forget that Earth was down below, suffering while she submitted to the Master’s cruel affections.

“All cleaned for you, Master,” Francine said, taking a moment to glare at the Doctor.

“Good,” was the Master’s only response. She opened the door and shoved the Doctor ahead of her into the room.

The Doctor slipped on edge of the rug and caught herself on a side table. A vase, perhaps placed conveniently so that the Doctor might break it, wobbled but did not fall.

The door closed with a snap, and the Master said, “Shall I get your present now? I wrapped it all up for you, but you’ll have to promise not to break anything while I’m gone.” She glanced pointedly at the vase, which the Doctor was straightening.

“Go ahead,” the Doctor said.

“Oh, you don’t seem nearly as excited as you should be. It’s a nice present. Expensive. And like I said, I wrapped it.”

“I’m so excited. I just can’t hide it,” the Doctor said, deadpan.

The Master grinned and plunged a hand between the Doctor’s thighs.

“You certainly _are_ excited,” she said, lifting her glistening fingers to show the Doctor.

“That’s not... I didn’t...,” the Doctor protested, but she knew she had enjoyed her little walk with its unsuspecting audience.

The Master laid the wet hand on the Doctor’s shoulder and pushed her down to her knees.

“Wait here. Stay.”

 

The Doctor disobeyed on principle. The moment the Master left the room, she stood. First she jerked the chain free from around her neck and tossed it noisily onto the floor. The Master did not return at the sound, so the Doctor wandered the sitting room. Two curved, Danish modern sofas looked in on a sleek glass coffee table with the Master’s autobiography placed in the center. Her cunning face grinned up from the cover, and a “New York Times Bestseller” sticker covered the “N” in “Saxon”. Now that the Doctor found herself alone, wanton property destruction didn’t seem quite as fun as it had when the Master had brought her into the room. She carefully touched various items – the vase she had almost broken earlier, a misshapen grey sculpture that put one in the mind of a headless female body bent back in ecstasy, window blind controls which the Doctor fingered and then pressed to let bright sunlight into the room. The Doctor flopped her naked body onto one of the sofas and picked up the book. She rifled through the pages until she saw a sentence of particular interest.

 _Regrettably,_ it said, _I have never felt such love again in my life._

The Doctor read on: _I translated my love for that childhood friend into love for my country and her people. Thus, I believe I am married to this United Kingdom, a nobler lady than any singular human._

The Doctor covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. Oh, the Master knew the perfect words to both flatter and insult in one swift paragraph. The Doctor dog-eared the page, snapped the book shut, and replaced it on the coffee table. She stretched out on the sofa and pressed her stomach and breasts into the cool leather. The door opened a few minutes later, and the Doctor stayed exactly where she was. She heard the Master sniff the air.

“You’ve been playing with my things, Doctor,” the Master said. “I smell you all over this room.”

The Doctor lifted her chin and watched the Master push a spindly silver cart across the floor. On it sat a decanter of red wine made up of several long, glass tendrils like cypress roots with a cork set in the top. Two crystal wine glasses flanked it. Then there was the box wrapped in black velvet with a red bow and a large tag reading, “For my dear Doctor”.

“You’ve been a naughty Doctor,” the Master said with a thin smile. “But there’s one of my things I see you haven’t played with.”

“And what would that be?” the Doctor asked. The leather had already warmed beneath her from the heat of her naked body.

“Mmm, I think you can guess.”

“No, really I can’t. The walls? The other sofa?”

“You,” the Master said plainly. “I must say I’m surprised. I expected to walk back in and find you rubbing yourself furiously. You must not be as aroused as I thought you were.”

Truthfully, the Doctor was aroused – wet and warm and aching – but she wanted only the Master, not her own clumsy and calloused hand.

To the Master, she said, “I guess you’ll have to try a little harder on me.”

The Master scoffed, “Do you think your pleasure matters to me one bit? No, no, it may be your birthday, but you are still my toy, and I’ll use you as one. Do you understand?”

The Master’s words did nothing to cool the Doctor’s lust, but she bit the inside of her lip and answered, “Yes, Master,” quietly.

The Master removed the cork from the decanter with a pop and tilted it over one of the glasses. The wine glugged within, splashing down the glass tendrils like blood flashing into a syringe. Not a drop missed the glass. The Master filled the other and lifted both into her hands.

“Sit up,” she commanded.

The Doctor sat cross-legged on the sofa and left room for the Master next to her, but the Master only set one glass on the coffee table and moved to the other sofa. She raised her glass and stared across the table at the Doctor.

“Well, drink up.”

“You’re so far away,” the Doctor said.

“And you’re a klutz who would probably spill her drink all over my new dress."

The Doctor reluctantly lifted the glass to her lips and sipped. It was a dry Malbec. The Doctor wondered if, with the pollution on the Master’s scorched Earth, grapes could be grown at all.

“Not bad,” the Master said, swishing the wine around in her glass. She drained it quickly, set the glass with a small clink on the table, and stared at the Doctor. “Well, are you going to drink it or wait for it to evaporate?”

“I’m drinking it.”

“Do it faster.”

“Patience is a virtue,” the Doctor said with more than a little amusement.

“Not one I’ve ever seen in you.”  


“You’d be surprised.”

The Doctor took another sip and let the flavor run across her tongue. If the Master could frustrate her, she would give it back tenfold.

The Master looked away finally and spied the chain on the floor.

“You took it off,” she said.

“I know you heard me do it.”

“If you don’t drink the wine, I’m going to pour it down your skinny little throat.”

Finally, satisfied with the Master’s frustration, the Doctor drank the rest of her glass. As soon as she set it on the table, the Master leapt upon her. The chain was in her hand by the time she bowled the Doctor sideways onto the sofa. The chiffon and crinolines scratched against the Doctor’s body, and the chain, now cold, pressed hard against the Doctor’s clit. She let out a loud moan and shifted under the Master.

Immediately the Master was back on her feet, and the sensations were gone.

“There we go, Doctor. Now you’re ready for your present.”

“No time like the present,” the Doctor said with a grin.

The Master looked at her sourly and picked up the black gift. She set it in the Doctor’s hands. The Doctor saw something white balled into her fist as she tucked her hands behind the fullness of her dress and leaned coquettishly toward the Doctor.

“Open it! I can’t bear waiting any longer,” the Master said.

The Doctor removed the ribbon and tried to tear at the velvet. The fabric slipped under her fingers but eventually came free. The black box inside had no markings. The Doctor shook it.

“Ah-ah, Doctor. You don’t want to break anything,” the Master said.

It sounded... rubbery. A little clink of metal too. Something was muffling most of the sound.

The Doctor opened the lid. Inside, resting in a bed of red velvet this time, was a sleek, black shaft attached to a leather strap. Another bow was tied around the shorter end. The Doctor had seen something like this before, when Rose had dragged her into an adult novelties shop to giggle at the fuzzy cuffs and flavored lotions. That short end, with the bow so welcomingly decorating it, went in your mouth... the Doctor’s mouth. Yes, that was absolutely the way it would be.

Without giving the Doctor a moment to say something clever, the Master pulled the Doctor’s elbows behind her with a jerk.

“Gah!” the Doctor cried. She felt a thin rope encircling her wrists. “Don’t I even get a chance to try it on?”

“The thing about toys,” the Master said, looping the white rope several times, “is that they aren’t any fun if they aren’t yours to control.”

The Doctor breathed heavily. She wiggled her fingers but struggled only superficially.

“You’re not fighting too hard,” the Master said. “Is it possible you’ve learned to obey?”

“Chosen, more like.”

“Ah, yes, the omnipresent freedom of choice you so believe in.”

The Master stroked the Doctor’s chin gently as her other hand pulled the rope tight. The Doctor involuntarily leaned her head into the Master’s hand.  


“So my toy really does have her batteries charged,” the Master said. She used both hands to finish the knot and wrapped her arms around the Doctor’s chest to pull her down to her lap. “Now you have a toy of your own. Open wide.”

The Doctor clamped her lips shut in mock defiance, hoping the Master might kiss them open. Instead, she pried them apart with her gloved hands and held the Doctor’s jaw open while she tore the bow from the gag.

“Here we go,” the Master said, easing the short end between the Doctor’s teeth. It pushed the Doctor’s tongue against the bottom of her mouth and filled the space just enough to cause discomfort and ensure almost total silence.

The Master grasped the Doctor’s shock of messy hair and pulled her head up enough to fasten the buckle at the base of her skull. The black shaft extended from the Doctor’s useless mouth. The Master stroked it.

“Mmm, I always thought your mouth was your most dangerous weapon. Now let’s see what it can do with a little extra artillery.” The Master slid out from under the Doctor’s head and yanked her by the hair until she lay with her head resting at the end of the sofa. The Master tilted the Doctor’s head back and dangled the chain along the Doctor’s throat. The Doctor responded with a throaty moan. With a rustle, the Master lifted her skirt and crinolines. She wore nothing beneath them. Her labia swelled pink and wet with desire. She dipped a hand between the Doctor’s legs and drew her fingers up to the tip of the shaft.

“I should have had you lick this to lubricate it,” she said, “but at least my dress has pockets. Had it custom-made that way.”

She fished out a small packet of lube and tore it open with a bite. Smoothing the clear liquid over the shaft, the Master climbed onto the Doctor’s chest and straddled her. She smiled with half-closed eyes and tilted her head back as if getting off simply on the thought of what she was about to do.

“Now, to test you out,” the Master said. She pressed down hard on the Doctor’s shoulders and lifted herself until the shaft penetrated her. She lowered herself with a long, anticipatory groan. The crinolines fell over the Doctor’s face, and she found herself in darkness thick with the Master’s scent.

The Master’s thighs tightened against the Doctor’s cheeks. Soft, curly hairs tickled the Doctor’s nose. She forced her tongue up against the gag but found it blocked by rubber and leather. The shaft creaked slightly as it adjusted to the inside of the Master’s body. Satin-clad hands pushed the Doctor’s hair off of her forehead and yanked it tight. The Master rocked her thighs forward and back, and the gag jammed against the Doctor’s teeth. It dipped back to touch her soft palate, and the Doctor choked, but the Master kept riding. The crinolines scratched at the Doctor’s face and breasts. The Master had made sure to wear particularly itchy ones – at the expense of her own comfort – to tease the Doctor further.

Far above the Doctor’s head, the Master breathed in sighs. A high gasp of air in and a long, heavy sigh out. After a few minutes, she paused a moment, putting all of her weight on the gag, and leaned forward. She began again, this time pushing her knees against the Doctor’s shoulders and the gag downward over and over until the Doctor thought her jaw might break. Her desire to touch the Master and taste her skin grew as the ache in her arms, bound helplessly beneath her, turned to numbness. She tried to rub her own thighs together to calm the burning between her legs, but she got little relief.

“Do you like being my toy?” the Master asked breathlessly. “Do you like it, Doctor?”

The Doctor wanted to cry out that, yes, she did, oh she did, but she could only make a rasping sound in the back of her throat.

“Do you want me to touch you?” the Master asked.

The Doctor tried to nod, but the Master thrust against the gag at that moment, and the Doctor’s head stayed trapped against the sofa.

“Tough,” said the Master, knowing somehow exactly what the Doctor wanted.

She shifted back again and lifted her skirt from the Doctor’s face. The Doctor looked up with bulging brown eyes at the Master’s impish grin.

“Ah, _there_ she is!” the Master said. “Peek-a-boo!”

The Master dropped her skirt again and thrust roughly several more times. She lifted the skirt a second time and gazed at the Doctor with a cocked head and mock concern.

“This is for your own benefit, you know. You don’t want me to fuck you at your own party, in front of _all those people_.”

With a few choking sounds, the Doctor tried to reply.

“Oh, don’t even try to speak. You know I can already tell what you’re going to ask. “’What people? Who did you invite to my party?’ Sorry, _whom_.”

She pursed her lips and shook her head. “You’ll just have to see. Or maybe you won’t. It really depends on how good you are.”

The Doctor cocked her eyebrow.

“Never you mind that now, Doctor. I’m.” The shaft shoved deeper inside the Master’s body as she rammed herself back on it again. “Not.” She used the Doctor’s hair to pull herself up again. “Done. Fucking. You. Yet.”

The Master’s mouth opened in an expression of ecstasy, and her hands slowly curled loose from around the Doctor’s hair and the skirt of her dress. A keening purr accompanied the movement. Then the Master leaned back and lifted herself back to the floor with a wet pop. She removed one of her gloves and wiped the Doctor’s soaked chin.

“Mmmm,” she sighed. “I’m all over you.” She tickled the Doctor between the legs and grinned. “You’re all over you too. Up you sit.”

With her arms entirely numb beneath her, the Doctor struggled to sit up. After three tries, she rolled off the sofa and onto the floor at the Master’s feet.

“Pathetic,” the Master said, but she lifted the Doctor under the shoulders so that she was on her knees.

The Master unfastened the gag and pried it slowly out of the Doctor’s mouth. She tossed it aside. The Doctor winced and tried to close her jaw. It felt strange, as if she were moving part of someone else’s body.

“Oh my, look at the time!” the Master said, glancing at a nonexistent watch on her wrist. “We’re going to be late to your party.”

“I think I need a shower,” the Doctor said in a voice like a ventriloquist. Her jaw needed a good massage and a long break.

“No time, no time. Wait here a moment.” The Master exited through the same door as before but returned almost immediately this time. She pushed a rolling desk chair and trailed a long strip of black chiffon from her hand.

The Doctor wriggled a bit as the Master dragged her into the chair, but her sleeping arms gave little struggle as the Master untied them and bound them again to the arms of the chair.

“Why can’t I just walk like a normal person?” the Doctor asked.

“Because this is ever so much more fun for both of us. Besides, there aren’t enough seats in the room for you, so I have to bring an extra.”

“Don’t I get to wear something at least?”

“Oh yes. First...,” the Master said. She wrapped the fabric over the Doctor’s eyes three times before tying it in the back. “I had my seamstress save this bit of fabric for me when she made my dress. She’ll be at the party, you know.”

“I’m sure you’ll make her proud.”

“You do get to wear one more thing, but you’ll have to wait until we arrive at the party.”

The Doctor felt her chair propelled forward, heard a door open, shivered at the cold air in the corridor. She tried to stop the chair by planting her feet on the ground, but the Master only pushed harder, and the wheels trampled the Doctor’s naked toes.

“It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to,” the Master sang softly at first, but as she picked up speed and careened around corners, she bellowed the song. “You would cry too if it happened to YOUUUUUUU!”

Suddenly they stopped, and the Doctor felt herself pitched forward before the ropes yanked her back again.

“Now Doctor, everyone here came a very long way to see you, so I suggest you put a smile on that grumpy little face of yours,” the Master said. She pushed the door open and wheeled the Doctor into the room.

“Surprise,” said what sounded like ten or fifteen dull voices. The Doctor heard a few muffled gasps. Some of the party guests had not expected to see her like this.

“Tsk, tsk,” said the Master. “You can do better than that. You _will_ do better than that. On the count of three. One... two... three...”

“Surprise!” The Doctor heard feigned enthusiasm and strained to make out individual voices. Every one of them sounded familiar.

“Music up, if you please,” the Master called. “I want to see dancing.”

The opening beats of “In Da Club” began pounding from speakers around the room.

“I did promise you could wear one more thing, didn’t I, Doctor?” the Master whispered in the Doctor’s ear.

“A good pair of pants would be nice. Barring that, a loincloth,” said the Doctor.

“Oh dear, then you wouldn’t be in proper birthday clothes,” the Master said.

A thin string touched the Doctor’s neck and tightened against her chin. The Master snapped the string, and it stung the Doctor’s throat. The Doctor felt something lightweight on her head and realized she was wearing a party hat.

“It looks good on you,” the Master said. “I have a matching one. So does everyone here, if you can imagine it. I think you may have reasoned who’s here.”

“You said I’d get to see if I was good.”

“You weren’t good. You were very bad. Trying to stop your chair and all. They can see you, though. All of you.”

A warm tingling spread through the Doctor’s body at the thought, and she tried to control her trembling so the Master wouldn’t see. Of course those old voices that seemed to harmonize perfectly would be Ian and Barbara. That clear, authoritative ring would be Sarah Jane. The low, uncomfortable lilt was Benton. She even heard Jack’s American accent as she flirted with someone next to her. Trust Jack to think of her libido even as the room buzzed with Toclafane.

The Master draped a possessive hand over the Doctor’s shoulder and lazily circled a finger around one of the Doctor’s nipples. Lustful eagerness washed through the Doctor’s brain, and she squirmed.

“I think someone wants to fuck right here in front of all her friends,” the Master whispered, her warm lips touching the Doctor’s ear. She bit lightly at the Doctor’s earlobe and then the side of her neck. She took the string of the party hat in her teeth, stretched it, and let it snap against the Doctor.

“No, I would never,” the Doctor muttered.

“Let’s dance,” the Master said. She spun the Doctor’s chair to the music, letting her crisp crinolines caress the Doctor’s thighs. “WHY IS NO ONE ELSE DANCING?” she shouted.

The Doctor heard a bustle of scared humans bumping against one another in an effort to join the dancing. _I’ll save all of you,_ she thought fleetingly. All of her thoughts were fleeting right now except her thoughts of the Master.

“You’ll be very glad,” the Master said, “that I’ve gotten them all here by offering them a deal. When I get tired of the dancing, they get a real meal. Isn’t that generous of me?”

“Very,” the Doctor said sarcastically.

“You’ll get to eat too. I’ll feed you. It’ll be fun.”

“Only if you’ll eat me after,” the Doctor said with a grin.

The Master pinched the Doctor’s nipple. “Cheeky.”

A new song started, and the Doctor felt the Master’s breath warm on her face.

“I just might, though,” the Master said, “if you’re good.”

“I won’t be.”

“I know.”

The Master pressed her forehead against the Doctor’s, and their party hats bumped together. In her mind, the Doctor heard the drumming, soft yet insistent.

 _I’ll save you too,_ she thought.


End file.
